#comets fic snippets

[23fallencomets]

i’m gonna drop little snippets of fics i’m working on and fics i haven’t opened in like two weeks sometime later today/tomorrow because i have enough to rotate through and still not get them done

but for now here’s a little snippet of the loscar actorxf1driver fic

[Who’s your celebrity crush?]

[Logan looks at the camera and back at the board, blush apparent on his cheeks as shifts in his seat, rubbing his nose slightly.]

Logan: Uh, if you had asked this like, four months ago I would have said literally anyone, but—I’m, uh, Oscar Piastri? He’s an F1 driver that I’ve been following since his feeder series. Oh, god, I could’ve lied and said fucken Alex Albon or something. . Albon or something.

Interviewer: Did you have a crush on Alex Albon?

Logan: Oh, yeah most definitely. Have you seen him?

The clip goes viral, as most things Logan does do.

And the Sargebon fic that’s almost done

Alex isn’t possessive, not really. He enjoys having his partners’ attention, but knows he can’t have them all the time. Yet, here he is, sitting across the living room, watching Kyle fucking Kirkwood drape himself over Logan; the Floridans seem to melt into each, unfiltered happiness creasing Logan’s eyes as his friend rants about something.

Alex’s foot gets knocked against something, causing him to blink rapidly. He meets Oscar’s unimpressed gaze, hand limply holding a glass of something. It makes him remember that they’re not alone, in this odd bubble he had made for him, Logan and Kyle. Fred is sitting next to Oscar, shoulders pressed against the Australian, an amused look on his face.

Alex vaguely feels like he got caught doing something he shouldn’t have

[zackprincebooks]

🌑Seven Sentence Sunday🌑

Thanks for the tag, @the-golden-comet! Have a snippet from my Sanguinius x Reader fic, Beloved of the Blood Moons.

Please note, this work will have heavy religious themes and imagery, as well as smut. Read with care.

With each step, the Holy Sepulchre is revealed to you: Blood Angels adorned in their ceremonial robes line the entrance, their voices lifted to the vaulted ceiling where incense burners gently sway. The Blood Moons shine through the stained-glass windows depicting The Great Angel’s many victories and shine muted colors on the walls. Once you have ascended the stairs, you can see the Golden Sarcophagus. You have seen it on previous Sanguinala celebrations, where you gazed at The Great Angel’s visage in his eternal slumber. It always occurred to you that he looked…lonely in there, laying in an ocean of red silk. You wanted to climb into his coffin and rest his head on your chest, stroking his hair. Halfway through your approach, the lid of the coffin moves, for the first time in ten thousand years.

Tag list below! Please interact with my taglist post to be added:

@the-golden-comet @wyked-ao3 @burntblanc @lorifragolina��@nczaversnick

@glasshouses-and-stones @thatuselesshuman @mushroommanchanterelle @phoenixofthegreenwood @ilovevewritingfanfic

@jev-urisk @lizurich @villian-lover7899 @rivenantiqnerd @pastelpinkhobbies

@satohqbanana @lychhiker-writes @owlsandwich @leahnardo-da-veggie @dearunreliablenarrator

@theboarsbride @theaistired @raelemond @cowboybrunch @the-scaredy-crow

@gioiaalbanoart @katy-books @writer-imagination @sleepyfan-blog @not-quite-humann

@angronsjewelbeetle @autism-purgatory @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @beckyninja @meervalv0

@magnymagics-puppy @justfreakynothingelse

[justabigoldnerd]

OH SHIT OH FUCK *runs through the door, tripping over everything, the comically large amount of folders and papers in my arms scatter everywhere while I try in vain to gather them, but it just causes more to spill* godfuckingdammit SORRY BOSS I FORGOT IT WAS WEDNESDAY

*ahem*

Anyway, here's a snippet from the Domovoy fic!!

Solo furrows his brow and glances down at his injured hand. A tiny sliver of white cotton peeks out above the line of his pocket. He curses himself for not triple checking its visibility and sits down at his desk with a sigh, “Where's Peril?” “Meeting with Waverly about Mezimesti. Why? Do you need your emotional support Russian?” Gaby teases, eyes glittering with mischief. “He's not my–,” Solo shakes his head, “I burnt myself on the new stove. I was going to tell you this evening, but since you've demanded an explanation, I'll go ahead and ask if you could take a look.” “I'm a mechanic, not a handyman.” “At least give it a once-over. If you can fix it, I'll make you dinner. Anything you like.” Her lips purse in thought, then she rolls her eyes, “Deal. You're making Frikadellen.”

No pressure tagging @huggiebird @happybean17 @falling-into-peril @heytheredeann @pippinoftheshire

@bighandsforabigheart @kcscribbler @mybelovedillya @cha-melodius @the-golden-comet

@thattripleabattery @too-young-to-fall-in-love @times-up-alone-tonight @vnyu73 @nicijones

@prettyboynapoleonsolo @fandom-meet-fanthem

And an Open Tag for anyone who wants to join!!! 💕💕💕💕

[theirmagictheirquest]

hello any raven cycle fans currently have star wars brainrot because of andor? here is a shameless self promo - I have an (currently incomplete) ao3 fic where that’s a star wars au of trc inspired by andor set in the rebellion era!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47067355/chapters/118578760

here is a snippet ;)

The Yavin System. A small, forgettable system in the Outer Rim. It floats lonely in the Gordian Reach, along a centuries-defunct trade hyperlane route. Yavin’s sun is dim and orange, a cool star inching closer to the end of its life. Blink and you’ll miss it, as you whip past the system on a nearby new hyperlane.

Gansey prided himself on his ability to look closer, and that’s exactly what he’d done with the Yavin system. He hadn’t missed it. The Empire had. If one peered long enough at the Yavin system, you’d start to see the intracity of this four-body system. Dangerously close to the star, Fiddanl orbits, a rocky planet theorized to be filled to the brim with precious metals, perfect for an Imperial mining mission. Fiddanl has its own defense mechanism against the Empire though; a toxic atmosphere comprised of unstable molecules, constantly reacting with one another causing aggressive explosions in the sky and an ever present torrential rain of mercury. It was decided this planet was not worth the Empire’s time, due to the absolute uncontrolled nature of its ecosystem.

Far beyond Fiddanl’s tight orbit, Yavin’s captured comet soars around the star in a wide ellipse. It takes five decades to complete each rotation, and each time it narrowly misses impact with Yavin Prime or one of its many moons. Yavin Prime is a humongous gas giant, its surface decorated with warm-coloured clouds, ranging from deep red to pale yellow, with storms of bright orange spread across the equator. Cloud bands twist and curl in intricate patterns caused by the powerful storms throughout the gaseous body. It’s hard for passing ships to get a glimpse at the beautiful surface of Yavin Prime however, due to its obscene collection of moons. The Imperial literature Gansey read in his years of research had said there’s at least twenty-six moons rotating around Yavin Prime, a variety of different sizes and shapes and compositions, accumulated over millennia. Three are assessed to be habitable, but “not worth Imperial investigation nor conquering due to (1) their small size, (2) the insignificant strategic advantages and (3) the inherent unimportance of the system in relation to present day and future trade routes.”

This passage stuck with Gansey after he read it in an Imperial report found in Coruscant archives. After months of triangulating rebel activity, Gansey had made the connection that one of these dismissed moons may have become the Rebel Alliance base, and he’d laughed out loud. They’d been sitting right under their noses this whole time.

Gansey recalled that passage now, as he settled his bright orange ship into a wide orbit of Yavin Prime, far beyond the moons. Nothing here felt insignificant to him. He needed to pause for a moment. He told himself it was for strategic reasons, to figure out which moon to try landing on first. In reality, Gansey conceded in his head, he wanted a chance to absorb the moment. He wanted to take in the moons, watch the mesmerizing intricacies of the rotation of moons around Yavin Prime, and admire the details the Imperial reports had missed or had been classified as so unimportant they weren’t even mentioned in the report. He was finally close, after years of treading water of Coruscant dreaming of joining the Rebellion. He was close and he was ready and had information that could save people’s lives, and his heart thumped in anticipation.

After setting the navigation to autopilot, Gansey pulled out his journal. He knocked his fist twice on the control panel, and the screen displaying his galactic coordinates whirred to life. He jotted these down, and then looked out at the many moons between him and the planet.

Consulting his map and his scanners, he took note of the three habitable moons.

:)

[daily-pat]

I've finished this far too late for my liking.

We continue with this mini series I've started (what's with me and mini series??). Chronologically, Tord's in his early teens now, and this is where the relationship begins to see a shift towards more of a father/son relationship instead of a family friend and mentor role. I've taken inspiration visually from post-impressionism today. It's probably one of my favorite eras in regards to a visual aesthetic, right after surrealism and impressionism (I LIKE IT OKAY. So normal). This is actually inspired by a bit from a fic I'm working on right now. Maybe if y'all want it, I'll reblog it with the very angsty snippet.

NO QOTD JUST GO LISTEN TO NATASHA PIERRE AND THE GREAT COMET OF 1812 THIS MUSICAL WILL MAKE YOU FEEL EVERY SINGLE EMOTION POSSIBLE IN WAYS YOU CANNOT EVEN COMPREHEND.

[raointean]

🐾 Do you plan on writing for any fests or competitions?

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals? (turnabout is fair play, right?)

Sorry it took me so long to answer!

🐾 I am writing for a fest! Actually, I'm running it! @adarondweek starts in a week and I'm working on my own pieces for it rn. Much excitement!

💥 There's a scene in one of my original fiction projects that I'm really looking forward to. The basic premise of the story is the fall of Atlantis (wherin Atlantis is on the Azores plateau and is destroyed by the aftereffects of the younger dryas comet) and the survivors travel the Mediterranean and end up founding Troy. At one point, they're going to land in Ithaca before heading to Turkey, and I will very pointedly mention how quick and easy that journey is. It's gonna be so funny!

🐌Either to finish all the little oneshots for adarond week (that I am procrastinating at this very moment) or finish that one waterfall fic that I started and then got over whelmed by school.

Thanks for the ask!

[nw39]

WIP Folder Tag game!

Thank you @strixamans for the tag <3 This game is to post the names of your WIP chapter/fic titles regardless how non descriptive or ridiculous and if any intrigue you, send an ask with the title and get back either an explanation or snippet and tag as many people as you have WIPs. I don't have that many people however I will still post the chapter titles :D

Northern Friends and Cruel Masters

Endless Seas and Sun

On Wings of Moonlight

Strife and Struggle

Druid Problems, Tiefling Problems, Who Else?

Tentative Notes of Healing

Tones of Nature

Yearning Heart Song

Twisting Bars and Sharps

Dawn of Hope

Hells and Nightmares Pt 1

Hells and Nightmares Pt 2

New Moons and New Horizons

Troubled Mind

Part of Me

Settling in Peace

Stars and Comets

Happily Ever After

Bogs and Volcanoes Pt 1

Bogs and Volcanoes Pt 2

Blizzards and Enemies

Ablaze in the Dusk

Blood Chess

Echoes of the Past

The Bells Toll

Riddles and Bloodshed

Minds and Mists

Dragons!

Discoveries and Tombs

Ravens and Bats

New Horizons and Anniversaries

No my brain does not shut up ever LOL.

No pressure tags for @shandoratheexplorer @goodgirlgonebard @arafel0194 @alwaysmauria @verbenaa @dramatiquechipmunk @dr-acula121 @deadly-diminuendo @andromedaancunin and whoever else wants to join in!

[23fallencomets]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Hello! I’m Comets ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

˙⋆✮i write rpf so if that’s not your cup of tea, please click off ˙⋆✮

.𖥔 ˖ Formula One .𖥔 ˖

✩ Mains ✩

LS2, EO31, OP81, SP11, AA23

✩ others ✩

MV1, CL16, IH6, LS18,

.𖥔 ˖ Indy Car .𖥔 ˖

KK27, CH26, NS6, PO5, DM4,

☆ Masterlist ☆

Welcome to my masterlist!! Here all my works will be listed and updated as soon as possible.

✩ Model!AU ✩

Part 0, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,

Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Part 8, Part 9

✩ love me gently (or not at all) master list ✩

✩ My Tags ✩

#comet talks

•me just saying things

#comet talks indy

•indycar talk!

#comets fic snippets

#comets writes

•me and all my writing

#comets web weaving

✩ FICS ✩

✩ REQUESTS ✩

[OPEN], send an ask through this account!

✩ AO3 ✩

[alexandraisyes]

Patreon and Kofi

I did it! I uploaded all of my public artwork to my Patreon and my Kofi, and have set up tiers. I've also published some exclusive content already! Two batches of linework files are going to be free for members, and I've uploaded a snippet of a fic that I've been working on (hopefully that will get me to finish the fucking chapter).

Comet Tiers (Kofi + Patreon): 3 USD a Month

Meteor Tier (Patreon Only): 6 USD a Month

A lil sneak peek of what's waiting behind the scenes, I have full intention to post to these multiple times a week. The artwork files are complete bases files, labeled and organized, for personal use. Everything is uploaded and available to all tiers on both platforms.

Also, I'm going to upload the first half of the next Highly Unconventional oneshot to the Meteor tier (It's not ready for Ao3 yet, but it's mostly done).

Even if you can't join, or aren't interested, could you reblog this pretty please? It would help a lot.

[justabigoldnerd]

✨️WIP Folder Game ✨️

Thank you so much @kcscribbler for the tag!!! I think I've added enough WIPs to warrent doing this fun game again!!!

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have wips. People send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

Now, I'm gonna do things a little differently. I have WIPs, but I also have a few more types of Docs:

(ALTERNATE) - Scenes from fics that never made it into the final product, or that I changed around a lot, or that I just decided didn’t work the way I wanted them to

(ABANDONED) - WIPs that have been laid to rest 🕊 Fics that will never be finished

(FIC IDEA) - Usually just notes on what the fic would be ablut

(VAUGE NOTIONS) - Usually something I started writing that I have no idea where it will go or even if it will go

If you send an ask about any of the types above, I'll just post the entirety of what's in the Google Doc!!! 💕💕💕

First, the proper WIPs:

"Are You Afraid? (However Could You Not Be?)"

"Children of The Discreet"

"Knife-poleon Solo"

"Illya unbuttons Solo's vest"

"How To Cook A Wolf"

"Gravity Falls/TMFU"

"Stranger Things/TMFU"

"Single Dad Solo / Ballet Instructor Illya"

"The X-Men From U.N.C.L.E."

"Feather Gifting"

"Gentle Vices"

"I Am Your Lover (I Am Your Jailor)"

"Illya Remembers June 10th"

"Isle of Flightless Birds"

"Michelin Star Spy"

"Nanites Library AU"

"Never Fall In Love With A Stranger"

"Scorching Out Thine Sovereignty"

"The Most Dangerous Game [Extended]"

"Which Side of The Wall Really Suffers That Cost?"

Next, the (ALTERNATE)s:

"Alternate First Date"

"Bewitched"

"Bonnie and Clyde"

"Bright Lights 2"

"Alternate Children of The Discreet"

"Alternate Drinking Sunlight"

"Alternate Feather Gifting"

"Finding Illya"

"First Meeting"

"Alternate Isle of Flightless Birds"

"Merc Solo Backstory Art Class"

"Spicy Times After Club"

"Alternate Winter Exchange"

Now the graveyard, (ABANDONED):

"An American Werewolf In London"

"DubCon Ford² feat Bill (I don't wanna finish)"

"My Teeth And Ambitions Are Bared"

"Ring Kissing"

"That's The Way It Is"

"The Soviet Russia Memes Incident"

"Uhhhhh that one dream"

"First Time Fic"

(FIC IDEAS):

"Illya is WAY more comfy on a nude beach than Solo expects"

"Resurrection? Kinda?"

"Sailor TV Napollya"

"Sleep Paralysis"

(VAUGE NOTIONS):

"Grandma"

"Waverly/Blanc"

I don't think I even know enough people to tag LMAO so I'll no pressure tag my usual list; @huggiebird @happybean17 @falling-into-peril @heytheredeann @pippinoftheshire

@bighandsforabigheart @mybelovedillya @cha-melodius @the-golden-comet @thattripleabattery

@too-young-to-fall-in-love @times-up-alone-tonight @vnyu73 @nicijones @prettyboynapoleonsolo

And an Open Tag for anyone who wants to join!!! 💕💕💕

[omkdear]

Haven't done a WIP Wednesday in a bit, and since I took a break from writing my long fic I was doing some re-read to get back in the groove. Here's a snippet from Chapter 2 of my pre-war longfic series Beyond the Gathering Shadow, book one--Winters Grip.

Assistant District Attorney Georgia Ambrose paced before the jury box, her stilettos tapping a steady beat against the hardwood floor—a metronome keeping time with her words. Her tone was cool and precise, each phrase deliberate and stripped of sentiment. She didn’t need theatrics to make her point. The evidence spoke loudly enough, and Ambrose's confidence in its clarity was palpable.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” she began, clasping her hands with the poise of someone holding every piece of the puzzle, “you have been witness to a parade of facts and findings that tells a disturbing narrative—a narrative confirmed by forensic analysis, corroborated by eyewitness testimony, and substantiated by the defendant’s own unfortunate pattern of behavior.”

Nick Valentine watched from his spot at the back, his gaze moving past the faces of the jurors to settle on her. She wasn’t what he’d expected, given the whispers circulating through Suffolk County’s halls and beyond. Three weeks in Boston, and he’d already seen enough to understand Widmark’s caution about the woman known as the ‘Red Defender.’

He watched as she turned slightly, indicating the pile of evidence beside her. “It is the state’s position that we have shown beyond a reasonable doubt that the individual seated across from you,” she continued, with a steady nod toward the defendant, “has committed acts that are not only criminal but heinous in their disregard for human life.”

Her words, low and firm, hit harder than any raised voice could.

The jurors, a mosaic of Boston’s citizenry, looked on; some bore the furrows of sleepless nights, others held a stern set to their jaw, all united by the solemnity of their charge. Georgia was an anomaly in the Commonwealths legal circles, not so much a rising star as she was a comet with a singular trajectory. She had a quiet intensity—didn’t raise her voice, didn’t need to. Watching her over the past few days, Nick felt like he'd been watching someone disarm a bomb with nothing but a paperclip and a calm word.

She lifted a photograph from the evidence pile, holding it up for the jury. A crime scene photo, stark and grim. "Each of these," she said, letting the brutal image speak for itself, "is not merely a photograph, not just evidence. They are reminders of choice. One man's choice to disregard the sanctity of life."

Setting down the photograph, she turned back to face the jurors squarely. "You've seen the patterns—the way the defendant stalked his victims, the cold calculation in his methods, the complete lack of remorse shown both during and after the crimes." At her gesture, the Ms. Juris unit glided forward, its projector casting evidence across the courtroom wall: Journal entries that had turned seasoned detectives' stomachs. Trophy collections that spoke of more than just a compulsion, but a perverse pride.

Each slide lingered just long enough. Not that they needed the reminder—they were already seared into the minds of everyone in the room from the first time they had been shown in the trial’s progression.

Ambrose paused, letting the weight of the visuals sink in. Nick could almost see the cogs turning in the jurors' heads, feel their collective will hardening. She had them, and she knew it. This was the moment where a less seasoned prosecutor might overplay their hand, but Ambrose was nothing if not disciplined.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," she continued, her voice carrying to every corner of the hushed courtroom, "you are not just passing judgment on one man. You are setting a precedent that will echo in the annals of our city."

An older woman in the back row of the jury box touched her throat as Ms. Juris shut off its display—a gesture Nick had seen countless times in his years of testimony and observation. It was the touch of someone who felt the noose tighten, not around the defendant's neck, but around their own sense of security and moral duty. Similar unconscious gestures from the other eleven jurors suggested a shared reckoning.

[zackprincebooks]

Golden Hour Snippets

I did some snippets of Golden Hour, the first in my Messmer-Maedhros transmigration fic series for a challenge on Discord and I decided to share them here!

Tag list:

@wyked-ao3 @chaoticfallenangel @lizurich @the-golden-comet @crashedrocket12750

@burntblanc @katenewmanwrites @glasshouses-and-stones @lorifragolina

@nczaversnick @thatuselesshuman @phoenixofthegreenwood @mushroommanchanterelle

@ilovevewritingfanfic @t0ul0ser @jev-urisk @villain-lover7899 @rivenantiqnerd

Want to be added to or removed from the tag list? Click here!

“This, Nelyafinwë, is the forge."

Messmer walks into the forge, briefly closing his eyes as he's hit by a blast of heat. Taking the initiative, Fëanáro stands in front of him to protect him from the blast. "You'll get used to the heat in time. The fire is your friend, Nelyafinwë, and it will drive your creativity just as it drives mine."

Fire is your friend. How long did Messmer fight against the fire that threatened to consume him? How long did he use it to burn and destroy?

And now he was being told to create with it?

……..

The path in Prince Ingwion's garden is made of white stones so highly polished, they gleam under the gentle light of the crystal lanterns hanging from the fence posts. Yellow flowers climb up the walls, made of the same polished stone, and fill the night air with their fragrance. A fountain in the middle sends its water into the air, and the tinkling sound as it splashes into the pool mixes harmoniously with the sounds of the evening.

Sitting in the middle of the garden is Prince Ingwion himself, adorned with the circlet of his station. Confusingly, though his circlet implies a business meeting, his attire suggests an intimate meeting between two close friends: a soft white robe with yellow lace trim and a deep green sash. The emeralds in his ears match the emerald comb holding his golden braid into place.

Messmer has misread his invitation entirely.

........

"I became aware of my existence around the time of my first begetting day, though I know not the reason why," Messmer explains. "The name of my first self was Messmer the Impaler." Even saying his old name makes Messmer shudder, but Nerdanel squeezes his hand. "I was born the son of Queen Marika the Eternal. I died undertaking a crusade under her command. When she no longer needed me, she abandoned me to my fate."

There is silence as Nerdanel absorbs the information that the fëa occupying her son is that of a stranger. But she does not let go of his hand.

"Ever you have been my son, even if I have not always been your mother," she speaks. Messmer dares to lift his head. "And if your mother has abandoned you, then let me be your mother forevermore."

........

"You're holding your breath again. Keep up your breathing rhythm. In and out."

Messmer forces himself to take in a shaky breath as Rog moves his new arm back and forth. He's laying at an angle on a padded bench with Rog behind him, bracing himself with one hand on Messmer's back. Messmer's new arm is stretched behind him, his fingers twined with Rog's free hand.

Part of the healing process, he said. They needed to make sure Messmer's new arm had the same elasticity as the old one, which was always tricky with metal limbs no matter how finely wrought they were. This involved Messmer coming into Rog's workshop multiple times a week to bend and stretch his arm in new positions. He was getting better each day and found himself using his new limb with greater ease. Soon he'll be able to wield a spear again.

But now all Messmer can focus on is Rog's hand, big and firm, pressed between his shoulder blades. He whimpers as Rog presses harder, and Rog's murmured, "you're doing so well" is not helping.

[alicentrasers]

Hi!! I'd quite like to ask about Dogma'a Rulebook please! (Also Fuck me in the arse tonight because that title!!!)

Lmao, I was waiting for someone to ask about that!

Dogma's Rulebook is another fic from my old co-author. They wrote about 3ish chapters before jumping to another midnight idea. Minor editing has occurred with this one but I'll be honest, I haven't read it in a while.

General premise is about Dogma's transition from the front lines, after umbara, into the guard. It covers his introduction, his relationships with his new squad, the commanders, and a possible love interest via civilian- though Im thinking about cutting that character as his main purpose was simply cuddle piles.

Here is a section that I have deemed Safe for Public Consumption:

"The barracks themselves were not much different then the ones on the Resolute, although there were many more bunks with space to spare, and even a large window on one side. The Commander starts talking to Dogma again, something along the lines of the freshers being in the back and some trooper habits. The large window has several mattresses placed in front of it, along with a veritable nest of pillows and blankets. The bunks that they were scavenged from have been fashioned into shelves with everything from holopads to odd plants stored in their cubbies. These bits of improvised furniture create a sort of room within a room, blocking off the view to most other bunks, and with the evening sun it all looks rather peaceful.

A firm hand clapping his shoulder brings Dogma back to conversation, Commander Thorn is wrapping up his welcome speech it seems. “Remember the other vode here can help you find anything, you’ll start on basic patrols with your assigned group after tomorrow, get some rest Private.” Dogma nods, he hasn’t used more than a handful of words on the way here and he wasn’t about to change that, hopefully it wouldn’t seem too disrespectful to the Commander. Honestly Dogma isn’t usually this wrapped up in his own head, but ever since Umbara he’s been distracted more and more lately, usually by the smallest things too."

Like I said, old work, needs major edits. I'm not sure if I'm going to keep it as Dogma is not one of my main characters for this AU.

-*-

Hehehehe, Fuck me in the Ass Tonight

That is the Working Title for the Ongoing Chat-fic Landline Across the Galaxy posted on my AO3. Currently, I had to change the working title to Funk Me on the Dance Floor cause I work on that doc at work a lot lmao.

This is an Information/Gossip Chat started by Jesse. It features characters that I don't normally see in most CloneWars chat fics, as well as some OCs of mine to add to the chaos. Landline has the heavy job of Connecting all of my WIPs and Posted Fics together into a general timeline, as well as providing Lore and another perspective on the canon events.

Oh, and memes

Never forget the memes

Here is a section from the unposted Plans for new chapters:

"Ahsoka: JESSE'S GOT SPACE INSTAGRAM AND NOBODY TOLD ME!!

Jesse: SOKA, HUSH

Ahsoka: YOU FOLLOWED AND UNFOLLOWED BARRIS, I'M GOING TO KNOW

Jesse: IT WAS A MISTAP, I APOLOGIZED

Ahsoka: ACCEPT MY FOLLOW, YOU COWARD

Ahsoka: WHY BOTHER WITH A PRIVATE ACCOUNT ANYWAY

Jesse: I WANT YOU TO LOOK AT THUS CHAT, AND ASK THAT AGAIN

Ahsoka: ….

Ahsoka: okay, true

Ahsoka: BUT U STILL DNT TRLL ME

Jesse: have you considered that maybe I don't want ppl seeing what I post?

Ahsoka: Jesse

Ahsoka: You have 3500 followers…

Jesse:...

Ahsoka:...

Ahdoka: LET ME IN

Jesse: NEVER

[Kix is now Online.]

Kix: And this is why I have this commline muted

[Comet is now Online.]

Comet: Jesse… Why are you shirtless in your profile picture…

Kix: >:("

Yes, I normally write snippets for this fic while sleep deprived and watching vines. I am /hilarious/

[aintgonnatakethis]

Writing Share Tag!

Thank you for the tags! I remember when I had enough free time to answer each tag game separately. Working life is not for me. 😔 As you can see though, I do keep them all and I appreciate being included in the writeblr community! ❤️️ I'm also reading all of them of course, but recently my spoon situation has been disastrous. I want to pick up providing feedback again; maybe this will hold me accountable!

@aziz-reads (x) (x) @gioiaalbanoart (x) (x) @frostedlemonwriter (x)

@willtheweaver (x) (x) @wyked-ao3 (x) @lychhiker-writes (x) @fortunatetragedy (x)

This snippet is from Flu O'Clock, a story in the on your hands and your knees, do you feel in charge? series. Classic sick!fic with my end goal being platonic OT3. Want to see how that's going?

Telford could appreciate the directness, and he wasn't about to do harm to himself just because he didn't like the taste of something. That was more Rush's speed, though he wisely didn't verbalise that thought, accepting the canteen and knocking back the stuff as quickly as he could without risking hurling it up again. "Good boy," Rush said, still in an aggressively casual tone of voice. Everett coughed. Rush did that thing where outwardly he completely ignored the sound, but Telford could see that all of the man's senses were trained with extreme interest on Everett, keenly awaiting any trace of pull on the line. Of course he got exactly what he wanted, because Everett just wasn't able to help himself, in far too many areas of his life. "You said you had work to do?" he asked Rush, proving the one thing he didn't possess was any degree of subtlety. "I think I'll work in here today," Rush said, the way he'd stated it as a fact without even an attempt at the faux politeness of asking if that would be alright designed to press Everett's buttons, specifically his agreeable-unless-you-don't-acknowledge-my-authority one. "Do you really think that's necessary?" Everett responded, overly mild. "He needs his rest." Rush placed the back of his hand on Telford's forehead. Telford heard Everett stand up. That's right, he thought with no small amount of amusement, fight like dogs over me. He relaxed beneath Rush's cool skin, allowing his eyes to drift closed. "I won't be a bother," Rush offered, in a tone far too soft to be used in company, in Telford's opinion. "I just think--" Everett started, only to be immediately interrupted. "I don't care what you think." "Rush." "What?" "You're going to calm down," Everett ordered, doing a terrible job of remaining calm himself. "I'm not the one yelling," Rush retorted, blunt but with a level enough voice that Telford knew Everett would find infuriating. "Maybe you'd like to practice using your inside voice." "Listen!" Everett hissed, clearly restraining himself from moving any closer. "You can't--" "I can do whatever I damn well please." The bed shifted as Rush stood. "You're not going to fucking touch me." Invoking Telford's unspoken protection was an odd play, but one of the best things about Rush was that he never did what was expected of him, always keeping those around him on their toes. Everett let out a warning rumble and Telford cracked his eyes open to see the two men standing nose to nose, staring each other down with no attempt from either party to conceal their aggression. "You know," Telford remarked pointedly. "If you two want to fuck you can have the bed." The twin scandalised expressions he received in response were well worth the headache the argument had set raging inside his skull, a bull deciding his brain would make a nice china shop to run riot in.

Tagging: @moltenwrites @the-golden-comet @finickyfelix @lancedoncrimsonwings @bagheerita + OPEN

[kartaylirnaak]

WIP Game

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thank you for the tag @hastalavistabyebye! And oh boy, do I have a long WIP list. There's so many of these that I'm going to put them into categories. And this isn't even everything! I haven't included most of my headcanon ramblings as I don't really see them as fics, apart from a few that ended up morphing into bits of fic and hopefully, one day, have the possible potential of turning into an actual, finished fic. I've also only included WIPs that progressed beyond the random collection of notes and ideas stage. If I included all of those, I'd be here for an age.

I've turned on asks just for this and I love rambling on about my far too many WIPs and headcanons so please do ask away!

Fair warning, smutty file names below.

Behold my very original file naming conventions 😂

WIPs Originally Created for Fandom Events

Codex Week 2024 Fic – Combo of Prompts

Codex Week 2024 Fic – Hands Prompt

Codywan Week 2024 Lingerie Chat Fic

SubObi Week 2023 Dry humping/Thigh riding

Discord Ramblings That Turned Into Fics

Fem Dogma

Fem Dogma Related Scenes

Waxer and Boil Discord Ramblings

Waxer/Boil/Wooley Discord Rambling

Cody training Fives and Echo

Fox and Dogma

Fox and Neyo and then lesbian Bite Batch

Rex training Echo and Fives

The Care and Feeding of Your Marshal Commander

Tup Dogma Fox

Wolffe Comet and Wolf Pack thoughts

OCs

Match 212th ARC

Tank and Foil Short Fic

Kinktober 2024

Kinktober 2024 Day 7 Omegaverse

Kinktober 2024 Day 12 Overstimulation and Clone Kinktober 2024 Day 12 Binder/Bondage Play

Kinktober 2024 Day 22 Somnophilia

Kinktober 2024 Day 24 Sensory Deprivation

Kinktober 2024 Day 28 Sex Toys

NPTs (No Pressure Tags: I never know who to tag in these things, mainly because I'm worried about tagging someone who's already been tagged by other people. So if you see this, consider yourself tagged! Especially if you're doing Kinktober or writing smut.

[loverboy-havocboy]

I gotta ask about mushroomgate for the WIP ask game 👀

--sithfox ❤️

i'm so glad you asked @sithfox !! 

it's mentioned a few times throughout the series that he's allergic to mushrooms, and at one point gregor gets a call from comet who's frantic because sinker is in the hospital for an allergic reaction. this is a sinker-centric side fic that describes how all of that happened. 

i came up with the whole plot at 7am on no sleep all the way back in january, but someone else asked that i let them write the fic. a few months went by before i was like alright, obviously that's not happening, which is fine because now i get to do it!! i'm gonna put more snippets than anyone probably wants to read 😂 but i've been a little sad about it but being done. there are a lot of italics in the doc, but i'm on mobile and i don't want to flip back and forth to add them sorry!

context besides his mushroom allergy is that he has pretty severe adhd, a bad memory, and his brain is all worms on this particular day. 

Sinker allows the rushing throng of midtown Keldabe to move him along the sidewalk, not paying attention to much besides his general direction and where the crosswalks are. His mind is too busy to focus on the rest. He's fresh out of a meeting with his agent, and he's feeling more than a little frazzled. 

It isn't always so bad, but today was off kilter from the minute he rolled out of bed -- twenty minutes late. He'd been so tired from wandering restlessly around the apartment all night that he slept through all five of his alarms, and Boost wasn't there to wake him, having already headed into the shop. It was only downhill from there. 

Some of this morning’s several other horrors descended upon him in the form of his coffee spilling all over his bag - which meant he had to throw everything into another one and leave the house without a single sip of coffee - and his Uber driver getting lost on the way to his agent's office. 

So. Anyway. He had a bad morning. 

He's glad he listened to the little Boost in his brain - who knows how long he would've rushed around without thinking to stop for food otherwise. It's one of the first things that gets lost when his head is in a mess, which sucks, because being hungry definitely doesn’t help pull him out of it. 

[...]

He never eats mushrooms, though. Boost doesn't like them. 

Or..?

Sinker pauses, frowning to himself for a moment. That doesn't.. seem right? There's something about mushrooms, something tugging at the back of his mind, but his mind is being pulled in a hundred different directions and all he can come up with is that Boost doesn’t like mushrooms. 

He gives it one more second. Two. 

Nothing else comes to him. 

Mushrooms it is, then. 

“It’s really good. It’s ham, artichokes, mush-”

Oh, no. 

He remembers now. There is a different reason he doesn't eat mushrooms. And important one. 

There’s a clattering sound, then Boost’s voice becomes clearer. “Did you say mushrooms?”

“I.. I forgot,” he whispers, horrified. He feels frozen. 

“Your epipen, Sinker,” Boost says, voice suddenly hard in his ear. It’s that tone of voice that snaps him into action, even before Boost adds, “Now.”

He digs through his bag frantically, his panic growing the longer he looks and doesn’t find it.

Where is it? Where is it? It's not here! 

Because it’s on the kitchen counter, he realizes, his blood running cold. Right where he must have left it in his rush to scrape everything into this bag after the coffee spilled. 

“Sinker?” Boost prompts urgently. “Talk to me.”

Boost is going to be so angry with him.

[boost pov]

“Someone has to call an ambulance. Ask them, Sink. I need you to ask them- anyone.”

It’s not possible. He knows it as soon as he hears Sinker’s next horrible breath. Someone else will hear it, too. He has to believe that. Someone will help Sinker until he gets there. They have to.

“I have to call.” 

The sound Sinker makes now is almost worse than the wheezing - high, and frantic, and pleading. Boost’s stomach rolls. He almost drops the epipen in his fumbling attempt to shove it into his pocket as he bolts back through the shop, straight out the door. 

Sinker tries to say something. It's unintelligible, but Boost knows what it means. 

He doesn’t want to be left alone. 

The last thing Boost wants is to do that to him, and he has to anyway. 

“I’m coming, Sink, but I have to call. I love you. I’m coming, so just breathe, okay?”